The World Is Not Enough
by xoxoLee
Summary: Eric and Dawn are ready to claim what they deserve in a companythat abandoned them, even if it means forming a partnership with eachother.
1. Not Yours Truly

**The World Is Not Enough**

A warm orange glow danced across the faces of young couples leaning over the table to kiss and proclaim their love for one another as the candles used by dining lovers dimly lit the hotel restaurant. It was as though everyone got the same memo, except for her, because everyone was trying their hardest to be disgustingly in love while she sat alone at her table. Her table did not have that obnoxious flame in the center or the scent of red wine. No, her table was lit by the end of her cigarette and the blue-gray smoke that was rising from her ash tray, and the scent that came with every exhale was clearly something stronger than wine. The waiters held the count at four glasses of vodka.

A man with a notepad and a familiar black and white uniform walked past her table. The woman quickly threw an aging, tan hand in the air, waving him in her direction. "Waiter, come over here please." By the sound of her voice, anyone within ten feet of her table could realize that she was feeling the effects of her drinks. Even the short, simple request came with slurred words. The man turned his head and hesitantly looked away toward the table he had been on his way over to, but in less than a second he was making his way over to the woman with a tired smile. "Another drink, Miss Psaltis?" He did not need to ask by looking at the way she gripped her empty glass.

"A Shirley Temple for the lady and a gin and tonic for myself." The man came out of nowhere, it seemed. One minute it was just the two at the table, and the next split second there he was, with a sly grin and a hand on the woman's shoulder. An odd look and one nod later, the waiter was off to fill the order, and the man stood in that stance until it was just the two of them. "Psaltis? I never figured you were Greek. Nevertheless, you know, I can see it now. It's the skin." Although she could not see his face until he let go of her shoulder and walked around to the other side of the table, she knew he was familiar. "How the mighty have fallen." He noted spitefully as he counted the glasses left on the table. "You used to have a shred of grace. You lost your dignity a while ago, but take that for what it's worth."

Her altered vision and untrustworthy ears were trying their hardest to detect the memories that came with that voice and those coal-like eyes. He knew her well enough, but what about him? Then it hit her. "Eric?" The shock and disgust in her voice had gathered quickly, but it came with the same venom that was normally associated with his name and reputation. "Dawn Marie?" He asked, mockingly, in reply. While she looked like she had just witness the rising of the living dead, Eric was leaning back in his chair, unamused by whatever flashbacks were going through her head. "Now that we're reacquainted, we don't have to waste any more time. Agreed? Good. Look, Dawn Marie, I'm not here to be subtle. You look awful and alcoholism might be an understatement for you." Dawn Marie opened her mouth to voice protest but was silenced by Eric simply raising his finger to his lips. "What the hell happened to you? You had a reason to be cocky, and now, now you're more of a joke than you used to be."

With his eyebrows arched, and the tray of drinks in his hand, the waiter stared amusedly at the situation. A lover's quarrel? Eric and Dawn Marie both noticed the intrusion and turned sharply toward the man, who quickly set the drinks down and was on his way. "Anyway," Eric began, shaking his head as he switched the drinks to be with their rightful owners, "long story short, I need you and you obviously need me. I have an unusual proposition for you, but you'll be interested if you take the time to listen." Dawn Marie brought her glass up to her lips, plucking out the cherry before taking a sip. Her nose scrunched up as she took it away to examine it. "It's sweet. There's no alcohol in this." Eric rolled his eyes as he snatched the drink out of her hand. "It's a kiddy cocktail. Maybe if you're good you'll get a grown-up drink. Not like you need any more. I'm surprised you're not on fire." At the discovery of her virgin drink, Dawn Marie's eyes had wandered to the other side of the table to his own glass. That, she knew, was not a kiddy drink. She just had to test it for herself, she did. Only a sip, she told herself, but right in front of Eric's eyes a sip turned into a desperate gulp.

"Cute. Very cute. You might as well keep it. I learned a long time ago now to drink after anything that's been in the gutter." Dawn Marie felt that one. "Are you here to insult me or are you getting on with what your proposition was?" Her face was stone cold, colder than it had been moments before. Eric, on the other hand, seemed at home with her distaste for him. "Oh right, the proposition." He took a deep breath, taking his time to tug at her impatience. "Marry me." As nonchalant as Eric's voice was, Dawn had a completely different opinion. "Never," her voice screeched. Irritating but effective, he noted silently. Some things did not change. "I don't know why you would even entertain a thought like that. You come here to take cheap shots at me and then you want me to marry you. Me? You've been a stranger for far too long if you think that I would say yes."

"Don't flatter yourself. You could at least have the drunken decency to let me talk." Though she huffed one last time, Dawn Marie silenced herself with the gin and tonic in the glass, giving him his time to explain whatever it was that he felt was worth bothering her with. "I need a desperate, ruthless bitch. You need a facelift, money, and class. If you marry me and help me get what I want, I'll make sure you're swimming in cash for the rest of your life." Money changes everything. That is what people always say, and that is how people naturally feel. Saying the word was enough to give Dawn Marie chills. "We're bitter and alone. We deserve what is supposed to be ours, and if we have each other to depend on, we will get it. If you marry me and follow my directions for a year, just a year, I will put you on the top of the mountain. You will get every magazine cover, every interview, and you will get the belt that you deserve. Then once it happens, the plan is complete, we'll get a divorce. I'll make sure you look good and you will be satisfied with your reward. You'll only have the best when I'm gone."

"Only a year? You'll make sure that I have all the money I need? Designer wardrobe? Huge mansion?" Dawn Marie stared him directly in the eyes. If he was lying, she was sure she would find some hint, some clue. All she could find was truth. Digging in his pockets, Eric fished out his wallet and slapped down the first four bills that came up. It seemed as though the two had come up with an agreement. Eric stood up from his seat and held his hand out to Dawn Marie. "Just one more thing," she said as she took hold of his hand. "Call me Dawn. Dawn Psaltis-Bischoff. I think it sounds nice…sophisticated." Monogrammed towels were probably far from the future, but for the moment, matching smirks would do as the two walked out of the restaurant and into the elevator. Everything was going to be theirs.


	2. Bluebird

**Three months later…**

"Hi, I have an appointment with Mr. McMahon schedule for six o'clock."

The woman behind the desk glanced down at a sheet of paper in front of her before picking up the phone beside her hand. All it took was one push of a button and she was connected with the room she had intended to reach. "Mr. McMahon, I have a woman here to see you." She glanced down once against. "A Mrs. Bischoff. Dawn?" Dawn assumed that the recognition had come through, because the woman set the phone down and with a phony smile said, "Down the hall. It should be the last room on your right-hand side." And she delivered her own fake smile in return. She was always good at that.

Vince McMahon was hardly sure of what would walk through the door. He had seen some strange things in his life, most of which had sat across from his desk, but the most shocking thing he would witness was a foot away from his door. As ridiculous as she probably looked to the nosy men and women peaking out of their doors, Dawn was going to take her time to knock. Her hand was already raised but the apprehension was taking over. There was a voice in the back of her head asking, "What if I mess up?"

Dawn barely noticed her hand dropping to tap her knuckles against the large oak door to the office. "Come in." But she did notice the distinct feeling of having her heart drop to the bottom of her lungs. A nervous smile graced the face of the woman, but Vince had already gathered his first impression of her. He was in awe. It was a rare occasion for Dawn to wear a slate gray business suit, but after all, it did come with a skirt. Eric had been the one to advise her to dress well, going as far as sending his assistant out to pick up a new outfit for her. The highlights had been taken out weeks before the meeting, and her make-up was a subtle brown eyeliner and clear lip gloss. Dawn Marie was glamorous to the extent of trashy, but Dawn Psaltis-Bischoff was going to be the very definition of elegance.

"Bischoff?"

"Psaltis-Bischoff, but yes."

"Married again?"

"Third time's the charm."

The wordless exchange soon after was almost too much for her to bear. Vince had his eyes glued to the only piece of jewelry adorning her hand, her wedding ring. Dawn's teeth bit down lightly on her lip. "You can't predict love now, can you?" Her laugh was as dry as his expression. "I mean, it's strange how people can change in time of desperation." Vince could smell the blood in the water. "Desperation?" He latched on and Dawn was ready to go on the ride. "Complete desperation. When I caught up to him he was miserable." Sensing the scoff at the bottom of Vince's throat, Dawn sighed.

"Even more miserable. I mean, he's trying to move on in life but it's hard for him. He has a lot more failures than successes, and that's inspired me. I'm tired of my failures. When I think back to my highs and my lows, it makes me want to get back into the business. I was managing champions and then I was wrestling in pudding. I want to go back to where I was and I want to be someone that people admire. I'm ready, Mr. McMahon."

When the door closed behind her, Dawn knew that she was going to celebrate.

* * *

No one was more content than Dawn. As she curled against the pillows on the bed with a Cheshire cat grin, the clock was just now striking one in the morning. Was she not in heaven? The room was dimly lit, as always. Eric seemed to detest light of any kind, and there was a less than subtle scent of sex in the air. Inside the bathroom, Eric was polishing up on his vanity, needlessly admiring his reflection and the silver hair that he ran through his fingertips. It seemed like it had taken hours when in reality it was a mere ten minutes, but the silence between them was broken though it was far from the usual post-coital chatter. "Basically, you want me to seduce Vince, convince him to hire me, sleep my way into his circle of trust and then let you weasel your way into that little group too?" Dawn showed no signs of discomfort when it came to the topic. She eased her way through the words without surprise or questions of intent.

Eric was never amazed by his bride's inability to assess the importance of their situation. Some days he was convinced that she understood the significance of getting things right the first time, and other days, he did not know if she was more interested in time travelling back to when she was a teenager. That night, that moment, she played with a tennis bracelet he had bought her, eyeing it over several times like a sweater she had just bought from the mall. Eric's eyes narrowed considerably, hoping she would take a hint, but she ran her fingers along it like she had just found oil a foot from her mobile home. Or at least that was the way Eric thought of it. "No, I…Will you stop that?" He had not meant to snap at her, but it was like a moth attracted to lights when it came to Dawn and diamonds.

The bracelet went limp in Dawn's hand as she untangled herself from the maroon colored sheets and crawled to the end of the bed. "Obviously, you don't know McMahon. He's not going to just let you in and share all of his deep dark secrets with you. You're going to have to be sneaky and you're going to have to lie. Surely, you're used to it." Like a cat, Dawn stretched from head to toe, rolling over onto her back. His cynical tone was a sound she had grown used to hearing. Now, more than ever, it was easier to let the sound drown out and fade back in. "And another thing," Eric said as he sauntered toward the bed. "You're not sleeping with him. I might not have made things clear before, but whether I like you or not you're not going to be bed hopping. And I'm only telling you this once." Dawn dropped the bracelet to the floor with a sigh. Her newly free hand wound itself into her dark brown hair, and for a rare moment, Eric was transfixed by the vision in front of him. Marriage did have its benefits he had to admit. "Dawn, are you listening to me?"

"I heard you. You hate Vince, I have to act like you, and you're jealous because I'm not interested in you." The last word was punctuated by a yawn, and Dawn reached behind her to pull a pillow over to where she had been laying. "Now that we have that clear, are you coming to bed or what?" Innocently, she stared up at him, he had been standing at the foot of the bed for a while now. The brief moment they made eye contact was enough to last her a week. She didn't know how he did it but he made her shiver every time he looked at her. When he touched her, she always wondered why she was able to move. It didn't make sense that he couldn't make her turn to stone underneath him. Maybe she had it blocked out, or maybe it was because their hate burned hotter than anything else between them. He was cold.

"Eric…"

"Yeah. Just move."

They were chilly and they were lukewarm. Time would never heal their wounds, but at least they were learning to tolerate each other. Dawn never knew how easy it was to hate someone until she spent and hour with Eric, but what could she do other than wait it out? All she had was nine months. What she did with her time was up to her. But as Eric turned the bedside lamp off, Dawn was trying her hardest to make her time worth while. Uncomfortably, Dawn shifted from side to side, until she managed to unnoticeably curl against Eric's side. He stared straight ahead, feigning any knowledge of what was going on, as she lowed her head onto her chest. Only when she brought her hand up to rest by her cheek did she realize how similar he was to a mannequin. This had to be sympathy for the devil.


End file.
